Broken
by Lexii5297
Summary: When people think of Brooke Davis, they think about the rich popular red-headed girl who was captain of the cheerleading squad. Never in their right mind would one think that underneath her designer dresses and perfected make-up that there was a broken girl screaming for help.


**Summary- When people think of Brooke Davis, they think about the rich popular red-headed girl who was captain of the cheerleading squad. Never in their right mind would one think that underneath her designer dresses and perfected make-up that there was a broken girl screaming for help. **

**Disclaimer- I own nothing. Nadda. Zip. Zero. Nil. Zilch. **

**Chapter 1- Broken**

_**If you take a look at my life,  
You'll see in my eyes  
A whole world full of hurt, addiction, lies.**_

_**-Hinder, Save Me**_

When people think of Brooke Davis, they think about the rich popular red-headed girl who was captain of the cheerleading squad. Never in their right mind would one think that underneath her designer dresses and perfected make-up that there was a broken girl screaming for help.

First, it was just a quick, swift slap across the face, so quick in-fact she hadn't seen it coming.

_Thirteen year old Brooke arrived home to find her parents in yet another pointless argument about something so pathetic both soon forgot why the argument began.  
She carefully wound her way through the house, trying to avoid both parents, sneaking through rooms and dashing across hallways. It had become harder to continue listening to the hurtful insults that were directed to each parent, two people who were supposed to love each other 'till death do they part. But what became even harder were the heartless insults Brooke herself would endure day after day, constantly tormenting her, reminding her of how much she was a failure to them. _

But on this cool, brisk September night, soul shattering insults were not the only thing she endured.

-x-

'_Oh Daddy….'she gasped as she accidently ran straight into the cold, hard chest of her father._

'_Where the hell have you been Brooke?! It's past an hour after curfew!' he exclaimed, his words slightly slurred._

_She let out a deep sigh. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would start going off the rails at her; like he always did. Sometimes she would be lucky and only suffer a few insults that she could easily brush off, but the hour long screaming rampages either parent would do at any given time caused the most emotional pain. Even locked up in the safety of her room, with her stereo on full blast she couldn't escape their insults echoing throughout the house and her mind._

'_Daddy, I'm only twenty minutes late…We lost track of time, and I had to walk…'_

'_Bull!' he snarled, causing Brooke to slightly jump. He leaned closer to her; the strong scent of alcohol invaded her nostrils, making her face scrunch up in disgust._

'_I-it's true…' she began, before getting cut off by the sharp stinging pain that shattered through her face. She clutched her hand to her tender cheek, her eyes wide with surprise and fear, tears welling up in them, threatening to fall at any given moment._

'_Keep your lying mouth shut. No wonder you're such a failure.' He spat out, before storming off down the hallway, leaving his child behind with a sample of what she was to suffer through on this repetitive journey for the next three and a half years._

_-_x-

For the next three and a half years she had regrettably became use to the constant beatings and insults that were thrown her way; but it was not only her body that was suffering.

The emotional hurt and fear of their unpredictable outbursts overwhelmed her. Being constantly abused and tormented weakened her strong, sensible belief of herself, allowing her to evidently believe every heart-shattering insult that came out of both her parent's mouth.  
The slaps, fists or kicks she would receive by not only her father, but also her mother just caused the guilt and shame she was made to believe set further in, until the point she started to believe that she actually deserved these horrible beatings.

-x-

Instead of praising her when she arrived home with a B in calculus, her parents questioned why it wasn't an A.  
Instead of congratulating her when she first successfully maintained a place on the cheerleading squad, her parents questioned why she hadn't made captain.  
Instead of supporting her when she approached them with her idea for Clothes Over Bros, her parents questioned why on earth it would become successful with her behind the label.

At first Brooke worked harder, maintaining an A average, successfully obtaining the cheer captain position, and proceeded into developing her own clothing line by herself; but that all came crumbling down.

No matter how much time or effort she put into meeting her parent's expectations, for them it was never good enough.

Slowly her grades began dropping, her entire body couldn't cope. She was always too tired to pay attention to what the teacher was trying to explain from the countless hours she would lie wide awake, replaying every insults over and over again, until finally she would past out from exhaustion, tears staining both her cheeks and her pillows.  
If she wasn't tired it was because her body was too sore. The pounding headache or the aching pain from the beating she had received would tremble through her entire body, mocking her as the memories of how those injuries came to be flashed infront of her; she had to fight against herself to not allow the tears to fall.

She was about to give up hope of her dream to develop her own clothing line. She would tell herself that they were probably right, she could never be compared to other famous designers, no-one would ever want to buy anything that she would develop.

Cheerleading was a painful task. Brooke had managed to teach herself not to wince out in pain when she was grabbed, thrown or when her injuries were presented with the slightest amount of pressure.

Regardless of this, for Brooke cheerleading was like her saviour. Not only did being captain increase her social status at the school, but it also gave her the perfect excuse to not return home after a game or practise, usually explaining she was crashing at Peyton's for the night; when really she was out partying, allowing the drugs and alcohol to take her up to cloud nine, away from the horrifying torture that waited for her behind that bright red door.

The burning taste of alcohol that bled down her throat gave her the realisation that this pain was not there to threaten her, to hurt her. It was there to remind her that there were other pains, pains that weren't there to harm her, pains that would take away the other pains that were hurting inside and make them numb. It was these pains she craved, it was these pains she savoured and held on too until she could barely stand.  
The numbness this pain as well as other prescription or even illegal drugs gave her wasn't as threatening as the numbness her body or mind would feel after a few too many blows or insults. This numbness allowed her to forget about the pain and worries that had seemed to over-take her life.

She knew her limit, what was safe, how much was safe and never would she consider going over this invisible line while under the influence. Alcohol, sure, she would drink excessively, it was much safer than excessive use of drugs, prescription or illegal; she learnt that the hard way.

But sometimes drugs and alcohol wasn't enough. That's when she would move to the next option of her method of coping; meaningless sex.

It was simple, she would allow the particular male of her choosing to have their way with her, that was if they did not mention her bruised and battered figure to another. Redefining the 'no questions asked' philosophy to her own standards, allowed Brooke to not only fill the emptiness that had hallowed inside of her, but to also confirm the safety of her darkest secret.

Each time she allowed the moans of ecstasy escape her lips, she allowed her body to convulse when the sensational pressure became too much to bear, she allowed her body to move at the right rhythm and pace that her suitor deemed necessary, and she allowed their hands to explore her soft delicate skin, ignoring the searing pain she would endure if they brushed or pressed on a bruise or injury.

Somehow the partying, the drinking, the occasional drug use and the meaningless sex with strangers helped fill the void of her desperate need of affection and gratitude she had never been able to receive from her parents she had been craving for the majority of her life.

It was easier this way, keeping this secret to herself. Of course she's considered telling someone before, but the constant tormenting of their voices, telling her that no-one would believe her always appeared the second before she opened her mouth, destroying any courage she had managed to build up.

So she allowed it to continue. She knew it was wrong. Sometimes she knew she didn't deserve this, but nevertheless, she allowed herself to continue going through this nightmare day after day.

Brooke Davis was living a double life, keeping up this charade that her life was just as perfect as she appeared to be, when reality was, she had to force herself to get up every morning, dreading what every day had to bring.

-x-

Daily life was now becoming a painful routine, and today was no different.

Like every morning she woke up after another restless and painful sleep, tossing and turning, unable to generally become comfortable as pain was triggered from the slightest touch, sending an ever too familiar sensation of pure agonistic pain to every nerve in her body, making her feel as if she were burning alive. Sometimes she would wake up confused whether the constant ringing in her ear was the repetitive tone of the alarm; or simply from a few too many blows to the side of her head as she cowered in the corner, trapped against the wall and their fists.

Brooke sat on the edge of the bed, mentally preparing herself, and silently praying she would not be able to feel the pain and dizziness she knew she would endure. Her whole body felt numb as she tried her best to manage to stand up. Her thin legs shook dramatically underneath her, threatening to collapse in any given second. They only thing that was keeping upright was the assistance of any solid object or piece of furniture she would use to drag herself across the room to her adjoining bathroom.

Some days she could only manage a few steps, or it would take up to seven attempts to simply force herself upright.

She was thankful it wasn't one of those days.

-x-

The cool tiles soothed her aching muscles as they sent shivers up her spine. She tightly gripped onto the edge of the basin as she was once again overwhelmed in a spiral of pain, blurring her vision and making her head spin. Once she had recovered she lifted her head up and glanced at the ever too familiar figure staring back at her in the mirror.

Dark rings circulated her eyes, her complexion deathly pale and her eyes bloodshot and irritated. Her cheeks were sunken in, revealing the bony fragments through her skin, that were not naturally mean to be there. Old and fresh bruises were patched across her face, leaving her skin in purple and blue blotches.

There were no light in her eyes, no expressions dancing around them like others had. There was no soul in hers, just hallow spaces full of nothing.

She lifted her shirt above her stomach, wincing in pain as another bolt of pain circulated her body. Her skin was now a mix of purple and blue, spread all over her ribcage and abdomen. They had only recently learnt where the appropriate areas where to conflict most of their anger where they would stay hidden and go unnoticed.

She let out a deep sigh; a sigh full of regret, full of hurt, full of shame, a sigh that has occurred more than once.

She leaned over the bath, allowing a stream of freezing cold water to fill the tub. Slowly she undressed, allowing the thin fabric to fall gently off her, brushing slightly past her bruises, though not hard enough to cause any more pain.

She mentally prepared herself for the freezing temperatures she endured every morning. Slowly and hesitantly she lowered herself into the ice cold water, within milliseconds the bitter temperature sent shivers through her naked body, goose-bumps immediately appearing in every inch of her body and her lips slowly began trembling as her teeth silently chattered against each other. She hissed as the water made contact to her bruises, and gripped her eyes shut tightly, praying the water would make her injuries numb faster.

The torturous wait for the water to numb her entire body was slow and strenuous, but as like each other morning, the final result was pure luxury. The numbness expelled any pain receptors from torturing her further, and would usually last a majority of the day, allowing her to move freely with no discomfort, and avoiding any suspicion from anyone.  
Brooke had learned how to handle pain; her high threshold for pain had increased dramatically as the beatings continued over the years.

She shakily retreated out of the tub, and wrapped herself tightly in a large towel. She sat on the edge of the bath tub, waiting patiently for her entire body to stop trembling and regain the necessary heat her body craved for.

-x-

She stared blankly at the mirror, her eyes plastered to what was reflected in the mirror.

Her battered body was covered in a lavish silk blouse, soft, light and gentle against her skin, preventing it to cause any aggravation to her injuries.  
A flared skirt hung loosely on her thin hips, though not too loose to fall off. She would usually wear jeans, but the large bruise from one of her mother's high-heels on her upper thigh prevented her to wear them today. The skirt gave the impression that it was a lot shorter than it actually was, keeping up Brooke's flirtatious reputation whilst safely hiding the bruise.  
An array of bangles hid the scratch she had received on the back of her wrist after she scratched it against a loose nail as she had hysterically tried to claw herself away from her father who dragged her backwards.  
Her long red hair flowed freely past her shoulders, hiding the newly found bruises on the back of her neck and collarbone.  
Layer after layer of foundation had been carefully applied to her face, erasing the dark circles under her eyes, giving the impression she was nothing but a normal, healthy happy teenage girl.

With the help of a small amount of eyeliner and mascara, Brooke actually looked managed normal.  
You could barely see the traumatised and emotional mess that lay underneath.

The figure that stood before her was not Brooke Davis, oh no.

What stood before was a complete and utter stranger.

And just as every other morning as she carefully made her way past the two sleeping figures in the opposing room, she silently prayed that maybe this day would be the day when someone could finally fix her.

**A/N- **

**Risky idea that's been floating around my head.  
Once again, not sure whether to make this a multiple chapter or a One-shot.  
Depends what you want.**

**Feedback would be appreciated :-)**

**-Lexii.**


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